


Behind Bars

by YellowPencils



Category: Death in Paradise
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-13
Updated: 2018-01-13
Packaged: 2019-03-04 03:28:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13355541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YellowPencils/pseuds/YellowPencils
Summary: Fidel and Dwayne have had enough of Camille and Richard's bickering.





	1. Chapter 1

They had had enough.

Richard and Camille had been fighting all day. More than all day, actually.

Nobody could quite recall exactly when their relationship moved on from the usual griping and bickering to a permanent, palpable tension.

No issue was too big or too small to argue about, and it often ended with one, or sometimes both, of them storming out of the station. After an hour or so Camille would return from her mother's bar full of chicken soup and motherly advice.

Nobody was exactly sure where Richard disappeared to, but they all assumed cups of hot tea were somehow involved. And most probably, air conditioning as well.

He would always arrive back looking much more cool, calm and collected, however, so as far as the rest of them were concerned, the exact location of his hideaway could remain hidden.

Today's argument was testing everyone's patience more than usual, though, and because they were in the process of finishing off a mountain of paperwork for three big cases at the same time, nobody had the luxury of being able to sneak away, even for lunch. Instead, Fidel had been sent out to the nearest shop for provisions, which they ate as they worked.

" _For goodness sake!_ " Camille snapped, glaring at Richard.

 _"What?"_ Richard looked up quickly, "I didn't do anything!"

"You moved. Your chair squeaks," she said angrily.

"Oh for goodness sake, that really takes the biscuit!"

Richard began to wriggle around in his chair - which did, indeed, squeak in protest. It was something he had barely even noticed before.

"You're doing that deliberately," Camille growled, raising from her own chair and leaning forward, hands placed firmly on her desk as she glared at him.

"Of course I am! You're being ridiculous!"

"Oh, I am, am I?"

"Yes!"

Camille opened her mouth to say something, then closed it again. Then she straightened up.

"I'm going to the toilet!" she said as she stomped out of the room.

"I'm getting a drink," Richard said heavily as he stood up and headed to the fridge.

Fidel walked over to Dwayne's desk to hand him a document, muttering as he passed it over.

"Maybe we should do as Catherine and the Commissioner suggested. Lock them both in a cell and leave them for a few hours."

Dwayne checked his watch, replying in a low voice, "Well, it is nearly finishing time. We could let them out in the morning."

"I was joking!" Fidel said.

"I wasn't. We can take the paperwork to Catherine's and finish it off there. Then we can claim a few beers on expenses."

Fidel didn't have time to respond, as Camille returned, ranting.

"Whose turn was it to put the order in for this month's supplies? There's only one toilet roll left in there. _Honestly!_ Do I have to do _everything_ myself?!"

"I thought it was your turn?" Richard regretted the words almost immediately, as she gave him a particularly cold glare, "Never mind. I'll pop to the shop, shall I?"

"No! _I'll_ go," Fidel said as he stood up hurridly, exiting the station without looking back.

"I didn't mean...it could wait until the morning!" Camille sighed with annoyance as she watched him leave.

"He probably wanted a break from all of the arg...paperwork!" Richard clarified quickly, his cold bottle of water making him less inclined to argue with his colleague.

"Yes, I'm quite sure he did!" Camille's pointed look made it clear that she was still inclined to argue.

"That's _it!"_ Dwayne murmured under his breath, standing up and grabbing the keys to the cells from where they had been sitting on his desk, "I need to show you something."

Giving them no option but to follow him, Dwayne strode out of the room and headed straight for the corner cell.


	2. Chapter 2

"What's wrong?" Richard asked as he stepped into the cell behind Dwayne.

"Look..." Dwayne pointed to the back corner of the cell.

"What?" Camille moved closer, "I can't see anything."

"Hmm...it'll be easier if I move this..."  
Dwayne pulled the end of the bed away from the wall.

"A-ha!" he declared, _"There!"_

He moved aside and pointed to the bottom corner of the wall. Richard frowned as he looked.

"I can't see anything."

"You might need to kneel down. Get right in there," Dwayne said as he backed away from them.

Camille and Richard both followed his directions and dropped to the floor, Richard holding onto the bed frame to steady himself, not wanting to get his suit dirty.

"I still can't see anything," Camille said, moving even closer to the wall.

"Neither can I!" Richard turned to Dwayne, "Are you su... _hey!_ "

Dwayne winked as he slammed the door, locking it behind him.

"Dwayne! What are you doing? Camille! What is he doing?" Richard demanded, approaching the bars quickly.

"Dwayne!" Camille's voice was bordering on a screech, "What on earth...?!"

"It's very simple. Me and Fidel are sick and tired of you two arguing. Honestly, it's like working with a pair of kids!"

"So you're imprisoning us? Your superior officers? Like _criminals?"_

"Exactly, Sir. We'll let you out when you can behave like grown-ups. However long that takes."

 _"No!_ You absolutely can not leave me in here overnight! With _him!"_

"Well, that's a lovely way to speak about your boss, isn't it?!" Richard turned to Camille, no longer focussing his frustration on his cell mate.

"Some boss you are! Getting us stuck in here..."

 _"Me?!_ It's _your_ fault! I'm the boss! You disrespect me, so the others follow suit! And now look where we are!"

Dwayne started backing away from the cell, but was stopped by Camille demanding to know where he was going.

"Okay, it's like this, see. As we can't get anything done with all of the noise in here," he gave them a pointed look, "We are going to finish off our paperwork elsewhere. We'll be back in the morning."

"And what if we get hungry? Or thirsty? Or need _the...facilities?"_ Richard practically hissed the last work.

"Your facilities are there," Dwayne nodded at a empty bucket the cleaner had left in the corner of the cell, "And..."

He disappeared for a moment and returned with a packet of biscuits and some small bottles of water, passing them through the bars one at a time.

"There you are!" he said, "Now, behave yourselves and we'll see you tomorrow."

"Fine. We'll just phone someone. My mother! Or the Commissioner!"

Dwayne laughed loudly, "I know you don't have your phones. You left them on your desks. And as for calling those two? Well, who do you think came up with the idea to start with?!"

Richard and Camille were left clinging to the bars of the cell tightly, mouths open in surprise, Dwayne's laugh fading as he made his way out.


	3. Chapter 3

Fidel arrived back at the station just as Dwayne was collecting files together, getting ready to take to the bar.

"You will _not_ remove confidential paperwork from this station!" Richard's voice drifted through from the cells, "And that is an order!"

Fidel widened his eyes and took a step towards the cells to find out what was going on.

"No," Dwayne said, "Leave them. Get your stuff."

Fidel looked unconvinced, but complied. Although fearful of Richard's inevitable wrath when he was released, he rather liked the idea of getting out of the stuffy office. He thought longingly of one of Catherine's famous fruit cocktails, all they would get away with while they were still officially on the clock, but definitely as refreshing as a cold beer, whatever Dwayne said to the contrary.

With Fidel somehow ending up carrying Dwayne's pile of folders alongside his own, leaving his older colleague free to wander around chatting up any woman that cought his eye, they made their way towards the bar. Needless to say, Fidel arrived at Catherine's a good ten minutes before Dwayne, who eventually found him already halfway through his first glass.

"What's that?" Dwayne grumbled as he finally took a seat opposite him, taking in the jug of orange liquid that sat in the middle of the table, full of ice cubes and fruit slices.

"What does it look like?" Fidel pushed an empty glass towards him, "It's a drink."

"It's not what I call a drink," Dwayne grumbled as picked up the jug and eyed the contents suspiciously.

"Well, it's all we're getting until these reports are done."

Dwayne continued to grumble as he picked up the files that Fidel slid across the table to him, along with a pen, having anticipating, correctly, that his colleague wouldn't think to bring one.

The two officers worked in silence for a while, scribbling notes and signing forms, the pile of those waiting to be done slowly growing smaller. They were onto their second jug, on the house as it was a new recipe Catherine wanted their opinion on, and one which Dwayne was most definitely not going to recommend, if the face he made was anything to go by, along with his pleas for rum once again, which fell on deaf ears.

Fidel got up to use the bathroom, pausing at the bar on the way to tell Catherine not to let Dwayne have any rum, knowing full well that he would try and get his hands on a glass as soon as his back was turned.

As predicted, when he got back no more than two minutes later he found his colleague flashing his best smile at Catherine, to no avail. Rolling his eyes, Fidel headed towards them, nodding a thank you at Catherine, who winked at him in response.  
Before Fidel could drag Dwayne away from the bar, however, a voice boomed through the room, from outside.

_"What is the meaning of this?"_

The two officers straightened up in a flash and turned to face the owner of the voice, bracing themselves.

The Commissioner was standing beside their deserted table, glaring his most scariest of glares at them.

Dwayne and Fidel gulped.

"Sir?" Dwayne ventured carefully.

"We weren't drinking!" Fidel blurted, unable to stop himself.

The Commissioner raised an eyebrow, silencing them instantly.

"Would somebody like to tell me what you two _think_ you are doing?" he demanded loudly, "Here? in the middle of a work day? And _why_ you have left confidential files lying around in a _bar?"_


	4. Chapter 4

"It's not what it looks like, Commissioner," Dwayne smiled the smile he usually reserved for members of the opposite sex.

Unsurprisingly, it had no effect on the Commissioner.

"Do you know what kind of people hang around in places like this?!"

 _"Hey!"_ Catherine appeared behind them, "You might remember that you, and two of your officers, are currently 'hanging around a place like this!'"

"We just had to get out of there, Sir," Fidel tried to explain, "Believe me, we're getting much more work done here."

"And what is wrong with your nice, cosy station? If I recall correctly, that comes equipped with lots of useful police-ey things. Desks, filing cabinets, that sort of thing. Now, it just needs one or two officers to make it complete."

"Uh, technically there are two officers there already," Dwayne muttered.

When there was no further explanation, the Commissioner spoke again.

"Why do I get the feeling I'm missing something? I suggest that you tell me what it is, before I decide to be a little less friendly."

"The Inspector and Camille are back at the station. We thought they could use a bit of time alone," Fidel replied.

"Look, Sir," Dwayne stated, "We had no choice, quite frankly. They were driving us out of our minds! We'll let them out in the morning, they'll be fine."

"What do you mean 'let them out'?"

There was a silence as Dwayne and Fidel glanced at each other, before Fidel knew he had to bite the bullet.

"They're in a cell. We thought that if we left them to it, they would be able to work things out. Get it out of their system."

"And what on earth possessed you to do something like that?" the Commissioner's voice rose a little with each word.

"It was _your_ idea, Sir!" Dwayne sounded almost accusatory.

_"Excuse me?!"_

"And Catherine's," Dwayne clarified, "Last week, remember? When they were arguing about whether white or brown bread is better for chicken sandwiches?"

"We weren't being serious!"

" _I_ was," Catherine shrugged, "I thought it was a bloody good idea, personally."

"See!" Dwayne said, nodding at her smugly.

"And what happens if a fire breaks out? Or if there's some other emergency? What if they kill each other? Did you frisk them for weapons?!" the Commissioner's voice was still getting higher.

"No. But we did leave them a bucket!"

 _"Right!"_ the Commissioner clicked his fingers at the two officers, "Get those files and come with me. This is...I mean, even for you, Dwayne..."

As he began marching towards the station, his voice trailed off as Dwayne and Fidel gathered their files together.

"I'm coming too," Catherine declared, indicating to a waitress that she was popping out for a while, "I might well be the only one who can talk Camille down from murdering any of you."

The Commissioner made comment under his breath which seemed to suggest he thought that they may well deserve Camille's wrath. And that of her mother.

When they arrived at the police station, the Commissioner stood back and gestured to the door, indicating that Dwayne and Fidel should lead the way.

"No way," Dwayne raised his hands, palms forward, and took a step back.

Fidel shook his head and did the same.

"Oh, for goodness sake," Catherine snapped, "I'll go first. I do have to get back to the bar at some point today."

"No," the Commissioner reached into his pocket for his keys, "I'd better do it. Just...in case."

Catherine frowned and spoke tentatively, "You don't _really_ think they will have killed each other, do you?"

"Oh, no! I'm sure everything is...fine," the Commissioner attempted a smile, then glared at Dwayne and Fidel, "Although if they have, make no mistake that I will do everything in my power to make sure it is you two who pay for it."

As he unlocked the door and disappeared inside, the other three looked at each other uncertainly.

Less than three seconds later, the Commissioner returned, looking visibly shaken. He locked the door and headed for the steps outside the station, without looking back. The others hurried after him.

"What's going on, Sir?" Fidel dared to ask.

"I think," the Commissioner stopped and half-turned, one hand held over his heart as if to support himself, "Your plan may have worked. I, however, may never recover."

"What happened? What did you see?" Catherine asked.

"Nothing. But from what I heard...let's just say that if they're not in the process of murdering each other, they are definitely...getting things out of their system...in a...different way," the Commissioner shuddered and began walking away, "And whichever it is, I'm not interrupting them. Just take the files home. And perhaps...knock before you go in in the morning."

Catherine and Fidel watched the older man walk away, as Dwayne turned to look back at the station.

"Yessi!" he grinned, slapping Fidel on the back so hard he almost lost his balance, "I always knew the Chief had it in him! He must have learnt something from watching me all these years. Good on him!"

Catherine ignored Dwayne's attempt at a high-five, stating pointedly "That's my daughter you're talking about, and your superior. Have some respect."

As she followed the same path the Commissioner had gone down, hurrying back to work, she could not prevent the smile on her face, however.


	5. Chapter 5

Richard and Camille stared after Dwayne helplessly, ignoring each other. Hearing mumbled voices from the other room, Richard called out again.

"You will _not_ remove confidential paperwork from this station!" he shouted, "And that is an order!"

"What the hell was that?! Camille demanded, "How is _that_ a cry for help?"

"I think he made it perfectly clear that he's not coming back. The least I can do is try and stop them breaking anymore rules."

"You are _ridiculous!"_ she hissed at him.

"Oh, yes, I'm ridiculous. And I suppose you're going to say that it's my fault we're stuck in here, aren't you!"

"Of course I am! Because it's your fault!"

"No, it isn't!"

Camille started to pace the cell, each step heavy on the floor. Richard watched her, trying to think of something to say that wasn't going to make her even more angry with him.

Before he got a chance, however, she turned to him again.

"Stop it!" she snapped.

"Stop what? I'm not doing anything!"

"I can feel you looking at me!"

"What else am I supposed to do? Stand facing the wall?"

"Good idea!"

Richard rolled his eyes, sighing heavily.

"Don't roll your eyes at me!"

Richard put his hand up in surrender.

"Okay, okay. Fine. Can you just stop shouting at me, please? There must be something we can do."

"Yes? Like what?" Camille put her hands on her hips.

"Well, I don't know exactly...but there must _be...something._ Do you have a hair clip on you?"

"No! Why?"

"We could have picked the lock!"

"This isn't a movie from the 50's, Richard!"

"I am well aware of that. If it was, my position might be a bit more respected around here. Honestly! Locking a DI in in one of his own cells!"

"They've locked me in as well, in case you had forgotten. Or don't I matter as much as the all-powerful Richard bloody Poole!"

"Don't swear at me!"

"Believe me, I haven't even _started_ yet! You arrogant..."

 _"Camille!_ Please!"

Camille might have continued, but she could see the defeat on his face, and hear the pleading in his voice. There was silence for a few minutes, and she lowered herself onto the bed along the left side of the cell, wrinkling her nose at how uncomfortable it was.

"They won't really leave us in here all night, will they?" Richard asked quietly.

"You, probably. But I did think they were _my_ friends."

"They're mine too. I think," Richard paused, "Although, yes, I am surprised they didn't leave me on my own. That's what usually happens."

"What do you mean?" Camille frowned.

"Oh. I just meant...well, boarding school, you know. I was less popular there than I am here, if you can believe it," he forced a laugh.

Camille stood up slowly, then moved closer to him.

"Richard," she said quietly, "You know you're liked here, don't you?"

He gave her a small, lop-sided smile, grateful for her change in tone.

"They wouldn't have done this if they didn't see you as part of the team. They're immature, yes, but not cruel."

"I suppose we have been arguing a lot recently," he conceded.

"We have," she agreed, "Maybe it would be a good idea to...work through it?"

"How?"

"Even Englishmen can talk about...things," Camille shrugged.

"I'm...not sure what you mean," Richard sounded flustered all of a sudden.

Camille put her hands on her hips and tossed her head back as she let out a long sigh of annoyance.

_"Of course you don't!"_

" _Wha....what...?!_ " Richard asked, taking a step closer to her, wondering how anyone could be expected to keep up with her moods.

"Can't you...haven't you..." Camille struggled to find the right words, "Everyone else can see it! Admittedly, I needed my mother to point it out to me, but once she did..."

"What on earth are you talking about, Camille?!" Richard sounded genuinely confused.

 _"You...me...I...honestly!"_ she ran a hand through her hair in frustration, staring at him confusion, "Are you so..."

"What?!"

_"Oblivious!"_

Richard continued to look lost.

"To...feelings..." Camille whispered the last word.


	6. Chapter 6

Richard immediately turned bright red.

"How...look, I...I've been trying to...ignore...it," he stuttered, "For work. I'm sorry if I wasn't quite successful. I...apologise. This has never happened to me before. I will understand if you want me to resign. It is unreasonable to expect you to continue working with me, I will write a letter first thing in the mor..."

"Richard!" Camille interrupted his speech, clicking her fingers to get his attention, "What are you talking about? Why would I want you to resign?!"

"Well, my, um, inappropriate...ahem...crush," he managed eventually.

Camille blinked hard and shook her head, as if trying to dislodge something in her ear, "What? Richard. No. That's not..."

She trailed off and the couple stared at each other, the tension growing steadily.

"I was talking about _my_ crush," Camille admitted as she looked intensely at the floor, "Although I'd hardly categorise it as 'inappropriate'."

"Your crush on who?" Richard frowned.

"What?" Camille met his eyes again, both looking increasingly confused, "On _you._ That's what I was trying to talk to you about."

"On _me?_ You have a crush...on _me?"_ Richard's voice grew squeaky.

"Is that so surprising?" she asked gently.

"Yes, to be quite honest. It is. I thought...I thought you knew about my...I thought you were so...repulsed...you were going to tell me to leave. Or report me to the Commissioner."

"Why would I do something like that?"

"Why _wouldn't_ you? It's unprofessional, it's awkward, not to mention embarrassing."

"You're _embarrassed?"_ rage crept into her voice once more.

"No!" Richard hurried to clarify, "I meant...it's embarrassing for _you._ To have the dirty old Inspector lusting after you!"

To Richard's surprise, Camille grinned and slowly dissolved into small giggles, looking at him fondly.

"Oh, Richard. Did you not hear what I said? I thought it was the other way around. I thought you were embarrassed because your DS was lusting after _you!"_

Richard made his way over to the bed and sat down with a thud, putting his head in his hands. After a few moments of silence, Camille knelt down in front of him and pulled his hands away, forcing him to look at her.

"Why can't you see how lovely you are? You might be annoying, arrogant, fastidious..." she smiled shyly, "But you're also intelligent, handsome and, in your own way, really rather charming. And I'm afraid that I have fallen for you very hard."

Richard opened and closed his mouth, not quite able to find his voice, so Camille continued.

"I understand that you may not be ready to say anything more right now. And that you may not want anything to happen between us. But we _do_ need to acknowledge it, at least. The others...they're all right. We can't carry on like we have been."

Richard cupped her face with one of his hands, stroking her skin gently, almost like she might break. Or pull away. Instead, Camille waited for him to gather the courage to say whatever it was that he needed to.

"We work together, Camille! The Commissioner...your mother...I don't know which one I'm the most scared of!"

"They already know. It makes sense now. I suspect they've been trying to tell us for a while."

"Tell us what, exactly?"

"To get on with it. I thought my mother's lack of blind dates recently was strange. She told me...she told me I was an idiot for not realising what was right in front of my nose. I thought she just meant...how _I_ feel... I didn't even dare to think it might be reciprocated."

Richard took in a deep breath, wondering how such a strong woman could be so, adorably,  lacking in confidence. Over him!

Eventually, he cleared his throat before finally managing to say the words he had been sure he would never have the courage for.

"It is. Reciprocated. Very much so," he said quietly, holding her gaze squarely.

For the first time since she could remember, Camille blushed.

Then she leaned forward, and kissed him.


End file.
